It is good to be reminded, now and again, of the wisdom of gut instinct. Dean and I booked our travel to DC for the Women’s March on Washington exactly four days after the election. There were many good reasons it didn’t make sense – the March existed only as figment of someone’s imagination on facebook, I hate flying cross country, I’ve never been much of an activist… and I’m glad I ignored all of them.
As our trip grew closer, I found it difficult to articulate exactly why we were going, why it felt so important. There were no doubts this weekend.
I was there to see the girl on the train platform proudly wearing her Brownie sash. The doctors in white coats holding their well-made and weary-looking banner proclaiming their support of reproductive rights. The older black woman pushing her walker through the crowd. When we passed her my first thought was, “I’m sorry you still have to suffer for this” and I immediately caught myself and thought, “I’m so happy that you get to be here for all of this.”
I stood in one spot, on a concrete sidewalk, for more than four hours listening to the rally speakers. When the crowd grew restless and began peeling off to begin marching before the program was complete, I became an island in a stream, unable to tear myself away because every person was just filling my heart.
And that’s really why I was there. To be held by the kindness and beauty and visceral strength of a crowd so massive that from the inside, it gave the appearance of being endless. To listen and learn how we can work together better. To be inspired and grow more courageous. To fill my heart with the strength that I will need to stand up and speak my truth. To feel the electricity of looking people in the eye, standing shoulder to shoulder, and raising our voices together.
It was a memorable day, and I’m grateful that my gut got me there.